PTSD: a lasting consequence of
traumatic ordeals that cause intense fear, helplessness, or horror. For more
info, click on the link above.
The post I was preparing in December began, “I like to think that I am brave. But I’m not.” Assessing things from the different perspective that three months can provide, I would amend that statement. I AM brave. I am also weak. But I don’t think bravery and weakness are mutually exclusive.I watched Captain America again the other night. Before Howard Stark zapped him with the VitaRay, he was puny Steve Rogers, kid from Brooklyn, who got beat up often, but wouldn’t back down from a fight. Brave. But weak. The Captain, on the other hand . . . Wowzer!
Circumstance number one began with a malfunctioning fire alarm system in my condo complex. Alarms went off three or four times a day at irregular intervals which included three o’clock in the morning. The anxiety experienced by everyone living here, coupled with sleep deprivation made our lives miserable.
However, the burden of having to make decisions that affect over 70 people, most of whom are older than I, fell squarely on my shoulders as president of the board of directors. Running around in the middle of the night, in the rain, in my pajamas, dealing with residents, firemen and alarm company techs, wasn’t -- isn’t my idea of retirement living. One day there were three board members out with me in pajamas. It could have been funny if it wasn’t so nerve wracking.
As you might imagine, it’s difficult to think rationally with alarm bells going off . . . literally. (As of this writing, we are still in the process of repairing said alarm system.)
Hot on the heels of this stressful situation, the woman who purchased the unit below me, the one about whom I was SO excited to meet and befriend, became the “Neighbor from Hell.” Talk about disappointment!I want to give you the minimum background necessary to make my point.
It all began with my neighbor’s posting an illegal For Rent sign in the flower bed at the complex entry, followed by her irate phone call to me on a Saturday morning regarding removal of that sign. (No, I don’t climb into flower beds to remove ANYTHING.) I also don’t listen to screaming people, and because I can . . . I disconnected from her call. This precipitated pounding on my door, shouting and finger wagging in my face. When asked to stop pounding and go away, she pushed her way inside my house. Of course I called 911.
After two more visits from Simi Valley’s Finest, the situation improved only slightly. Random banging, slamming and hammering became my life at any hour of the day. I became a vagabond, staying at friends’ and neighbors’ homes in order to get some uninterrupted sleep. I also learned that the SVPD has a Community Liaison officer to help with neighbor disputes. ‘Course that only works if all parties are interested in resolution. In this case, not so much.
Harassment in the form of emails, notes and appearances on the property at odd times, continued. The tortuous situation didn’t end until she rented out her unit. But it left me edgy, anxious and generally messed up. Sudden noises from anywhere triggered the fight or flight response. Sometimes, I’d break down and cry. At other times, all I could think of was how I wanted to . . . well . . . harm her. Really harm her. I never knew I had such violence inside me, and it unnerved me.
So this is PTSD. The memories were so disturbing, that merely approaching my street triggered visceral reactions. I say “were” because I am on the mend. I’m thankful for prayer and encouragement from friends and family, and a professional “ear to bend” on a weekly basis.
Over the course of the six weeks I suffered, I asked myself and God, “Why me?” (“Why?” often isn’t answerable, but “What now?” can be.) And, as I often do when trials come, I asked God what He was trying to teach me. As I have mentioned elsewhere, I believe that God uses situations to train us up, sharpen us, and prune out the dead wood. In His perfect timing, damage is healed.
But, it’s painful, and I’m not so fond of the process. If you know what I mean, and I think you do.
The best descriptor for my neighbor’s behavior is: Bullying. As a youngster, I’d been bullied by family members, old and young. Oh, they called it teasing, but it was physically and mentally disturbing. Go here for more info on what bulling can do to your health. In my case, there was no parental protection to speak of. If I told how I felt about it, I was mocked. Ergo, no protection.
My instructions were: “Don’t let ‘em know it bothers you.”
[Side Bar]
I like, “Never let ‘em see you sweat,” a phrase coined by the Gillette Company in 1984.
Also, “Never let them see you cry,”
a line found in several songs and book titles. I like these lyrics.
But my favorite, a line spoken
by Q from a James Bond movie, (The World is not Enough, 1999), “Never let them see you bleed.”
The take away? NEVER let the enemy
see you bleed. He will always use it to his advantage.
I learned how to hide my emotions, and it has served me well in many circumstances. I’m not saying, repress emotions completely, but that they can and should be expressed in the proper venue. And never in front of the bad guy.
[Side Bar]
I learned a valuable tool while teaching junior high
students. It’s called The Plain Face. When faced with ranting, raving,
opposition to instruction, the teacher (or other adult) puts on the Plain Face
and waits for the tirade to end. Once it does, instructions are repeated.
Nothing on the teacher’s part ever changes. Reminds me of the Dog Whisperer.
Calm assertiveness.
[End Side Bar]
I used my Plain Face in every encounter with my irrational neighbor, and met all verbal and written rants with quiet assertiveness. I never lost it, but came close at times. The result, of course, is fatigue and depression. All that stress has to go somewhere. Some kind of “breakdown” must ensue. But the adult prevailed, and I AM on the mend.
God allowed this painful event to bring me to a place of facing and allowing his healing of the broken places of my past, wherein I was teased, bullied, tormented. I am grateful for His timing. I have also learned that I am capable of showing great strength when necessary, and remaining rational in bizarre situations. And that, contrary to my self-doubt, I handled this particular situation well. I didn’t buy into the craziness or fight back in the manner which this person desired. She SO wanted a fight, and didn’t get it. And it felt good depriving her of that. Perhaps I appeared weak to her. Don’t know. Don’t care.
2Co 12:9 And He said to me, My grace is
sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly
therefore I will rather glory in my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may
overshadow me.
2Co 12:10 Therefore . . . when I am weak, then I am powerful. (MKJV)
Therefore, I am encouraged. I don’t know what the future will bring, but I am not alone or defenseless. What appears as weakness is not. I’m not good at suffering, not even for Christ. But it is a part of life, especially the life I have chosen in Christ. He promised us sufferings. Sometimes I think, Had I known it would be like this, maybe I would’ve passed on Christianity. But . . . No. I don’t want to reneg. I’m in for the duration. I am a work in progress. And as I push toward the goal of the upward call in Christ, I will shed the trappings of the past, the hurts, the brokenness and be cleansed for the Master's use.
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